A Freudian Slip
by OldMoviesAreIt
Summary: Fred Astaire/Ginger Rogers relationship. Set in NYC in 1930, back when they first started to date. Ginger says something without thinking and fun is insured!


A/N: This story is based on a CSI fic I read years ago, that I unfortunately don't remember it's title or who the author was, but just so you know the concept was only adapted by me, not invented. Hope you like it!

As always, I shall nag and beg of you to drop a few lines and hot that sexy review button. Seriously, that not only feedback helps me be a better writer, but they also make my day, so please?

* * *

 **A Freudian Slip**

The moment the Gershwin brothers introduced Fred to Ginger, they felt an instant connection. The hours spent together daily, working so close together led quickly to a mutual attraction and she couldn't be happier when Fred asked her on a date.

It had been two weeks since that fateful date and their relationship progressed more each day. They hadn't explored the most intimate aspects of their relationship yet, but it was constantly on their minds as their kisses became more heated with each passing day.

As an excuse to spend more time alone, Fred started teaching her part of the choreography without the rest of the cast, using the excuse she would learn it quicker with "private sessions". They didn't say any remarks about it, but George's eye roll and Ira's hint of a smirk told they were on to him.

They were now at the end of summer, but it seemed the sun wasn't aware of that. New York was going through a horrible heat wave, making it impossible to find one citizen on the streets without a sweaty brow. Even inside the theater, sheltered from the sun, seemed difficult to tolerate the climate.

Right now Fred was using one of the empty rooms backstage to teach Ginger part of the choreography. Apparently he was taking the warm temperature better than she, for while her attire had been reduced to shorts that reached middle thigh and a bottom up blouse tied at her waist- much to Fred's delight-, the absence of his jacket and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows were the only indication he too felt overheated.

As they finished going through one of the routines, Ginger walked to the corner table that contained a jar of water and poured some in a glass, gulping everything down so quickly some drops missed her mouth and trickled down her neck to her collarbone, joining the sweat that was already there.

"Call the fire department, 'cause I'm on fire!" She exclaimed.

He chuckled, and drank some water as well. "Is this because of the dance or the heat?"

"I'm afraid it's the heat, Freddie."

"And here I was, thinking you were having some big breakthrough in dance." He mockingly shook his head.

She swatted his shoulder. "Hey, my dance can be very hot, it just isn't being so today."

He wrapped his hand around her waist, loving the feel of her soft, warm skin. "Nah." He smiled and took a step closer. "In my book, you- and everything you do- are always hot.

Her reply was locking her arms around his neck and giving him a blush-filled grin.

"And I read a weather report on the newspaper today and it's expected eight inches of rain tonight. Should help cool down the temperature."

Ginger was still thinking about his previous comment and lapsing concentration, missed Fred's forecast.

Funny how these days most times her concentration lacked happened when he was around- and of course his hands caressing her weren't helping one bit.

"Sorry, what?" She finally removed her gaze from his lips and tried to snap out it.

He laughed and pulled her even closer to him. "You're hopeless, darling. I said there will be rain tonight, at least eight inches. "

"Oh, that's swell. I just can't take this heat anymore."

"Maybe I can help you forget a little about the temperature." He retorted and started kissing down her cheek towards her neck.

"Really", she replied a little breathlessly, "and what do you have in mind?"

"This." That's all he said before their mouths met, powerful and intense and he indeed made her focus on another, more delightful kind of heat.

* * *

The weather report had been wrong and the next day started with another blazing sun.

Ginger walked into the theatre, sweat dripping down her back and found Fred sitting by the piano with George Gershwin while Ira leaned on it, drinking a glass of lemonade.

Annoyed by the weather, she blabbed the first thing on her mind, not giving a second thought. "So, Fred, where are those eight inches you promised me last night?"

The moment the words left her mouth she realised what she had said. Fred just looked like embarrassed- also not unlike a deer caught in the headlights- while Ira spat the lemonade he had been drinking all over the floor. George just burst out laughing and was having a hard time trying not to fall off the piano bench.

"Oh, God!" Ira exclaimed trying to hold his laughter.

Ginger's face couldn't be redder and she looked at Fred, who was now laughing so hard he was having trouble breathing.

She knew she would never hear the end of it, but spoke in a attempt to save the last of her dignity. "That's NOT what I meant." She crossed her arms in annoyance.

Fred knew better than to mess with her, so he got up and straightened himself up. The best tactic was changing topics, so he walked over to her and kissing her on the corner of her mouth, helped her off the light summer jacked she had on.

"All right, we're a bit behind schedule, so better start working." He said and then lowered his voice so only she could hear and whispered. "I could show you more than eight inches if you want."

Her chin hit the floor in its own accord. _Wait, wait, what? Was he implying he had more than eig- Ohhhhhhh..._

He smirked at her reaction and started to walk to the rehearsal room while she stood there, astonished. "Let's go." He called for her over his shoulder.

"I'm coming!" She replied yet again without thinking.

"Oh, I don't doubt that." Said George, his bright face showing that her debacle had made his day.

She only heard Fred's faint chuckle as she followed him. She went in and behind the folding screen to change her street clothes to her shorts and blouse attire.

The moment she stepped from behind the screen she saw all humour had vanished from his face. "Ginge, I want to apologise for my last comment. You didn't deserve that and I'm sorry. "

She looked into his eyes and had to smile at his concerned face. He always cared so much about her and how she felt, it made her heart skip a little.

"It's all right, Freddie." She kissed him softly, showing she forgave him. "Hey, I kinda had that coming with my little slip of the tongue."

Seeing all awkwardness between them had vanished Fred smiled widely and started their rehearsal.

* * *

Two hours later they found themselves taking a 10 minutes brake and were sitting side by side in the floor. The truth was that ever since he said it, Ginger couldn't take his comment out of her head. There was a mix of curiosity, fascination and excitement within her that was making her want to ask him if what he said was true. Suddenly she had an idea.

Lifting her head from his shoulder, she got up and sat between his legs so that he hugged her from behind.  
Immediately his arms wrapped around her and he rested his chin on her shoulder.

The warmth and content the connection between their biddies created- along with the advantage she had of not having to face him in this position- gave her courage to speak.

She took his large hands in hers, entwining their fingers together and admiring the way her own hands seemed so small enveloped in his. "Fred?" She started, while still playing with their fingers.

"Hmm?" He replied against her skin and she loved the feeling of it. _She could only imagine how it would be to feel the same vibration of his mouth in other parts of her body, maybe as he worked his mouth down her- all right, focus, Ginger!_

"Fred, is it true what they say about men with big hands?" She spoke so quietly she wasn't sure he'd heard her, but she had her confirmation when she felt and heard his breathing deepen.

It was her turn to present him with a smirk of her own, which she did as she turned a little in his arms to look at him.

Just as she expected, he had this stunned expression on him, eyes wide and mouth agape. She'd bet her life savings he never expected her to be this forward.

"What?" His voice was a combination of shock and laughter.

She now had turned around completely and thrown her legs over his, straddling his thighs. "What's the matter, Freddie? Cat got you tongue?" She couldn't stop the throaty laughter that escaped her.

Before he could make a spectacle of himself, he grabbed her and putting her on her back in the floor, pinned her down with his body and started tickling her mercilessly.

"Why, you sassy wench." He wouldn't stop the tickling and his fingers in the bare section of her midriff only intensified her laughter that was echoing through the room- the most delightful sound he ever heard in his life. "You shouldn't tease an old man so."

"Uncle, uncle!" She pleaded helplessly, trying to scape his fingers.

He finally had some pity on her and stopped and the vision of her- beaming brightly, breathless and with a lovely blush on her cheeks- made him wonder if perhaps she would look like this as he made love to her.

Before they started something they wouldn't finish- he'd never let their first time happen on a dirty floor anyway, she was much too important for him- he cleared his throat and got up. He extended his hand to help her up, which she took promptly.

He needed to know though, before they continued rehearsing, if she was really interested in taking their relationship a step further. "Ginge, when you asked me if-"

She interrupted him, his anxiousness making her bit lower lip to prevent a smile. "Fred, how about we just work now and finish this conversation during dinner later?" She asked as she walked towards the bathroom.

Before she closed the door, she looked at him over her shoulder. "And maybe after that you can show me those eight inches you promised." She winked at him and closed the door, leaving one Fred Astaire frozen on the spot, not capable of forming a single logical idea in his mind.

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A/n: Loved it? Hated it? Please do review!


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